


The Root of the Problem

by Draycevixen



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Dildos, Humour, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Probodie, who gave me the prompt "Black Dildo."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Root of the Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Probodie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Probodie).



.

The moment Doyle walked in, he knew he was in trouble. It was something in the way the men in the room were so pointedly _not_ looking at him.

There was only one empty chair in the room and Doyle headed toward it, only to bypass it at the last moment to go and get some coffee. No rustling of newspapers, no disappointed muttering, so all right, Doyle knew the chair wasn’t booby trapped. He eased into the chair, carefully turning it so no one could approach him without being seen.

Five minutes later, Bodie walked briskly into the room.

“Did you bring the rifle sight Ray?”

“Course I did.”

Doyle crossed the room to where his bag was lying on the ground, picked it up and placed it on the table. He reached into the bag as he continued to talk.

“It’s right here.”

Doyle whipped his hand out of the bag clutching a black dildo that must have been ten inches long.

“Christ Bodie” Murphy slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t use that on your rifle it’ll put your eye out.”

“Didn’t anyone warn you you’ll go blind using something like that?” Anson was peering at it over Doyle’s shoulder.

Doyle threw it on the table where it bounced and he instinctively caught it to stop it landing on the floor.

“Look, he even does tricks with it!”

As Murphy led a round of applause and the room erupted into laughter, Doyle grabbed Bodie by the arm and dragged him out into the corridor.

***

The dildo appeared to have a life of its own. Over the course of the day it turned up all over the place in CI5, always with an audience in tow, every performance playing to great public acclaim. Male bonding cannot occur without practical jokes and the dildo filled the void nicely.

It had even made a brief appearance wrapped in a serviette in the top of Betty’s lunch bag before Murphy had ruled that manoeuvre out as crossing the line from funny into offensive and it had been swiftly removed.

Finally, as they’d stood around the Ops room trying to work out what to do with it next, Bodie, sporting a split lip, had walked quietly into the room and held out his hand. Murphy had handed it over immediately.

“Watch and learn my son.”

Bodie had left the room, Murphy trailing after him.

Ten minutes later Murphy had walked back in, white as a sheet.

“Bodie just sneaked it into Cowley’s office.”

***

“Anson.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Look what turned up where my Single Malt should have been.”

“It wasn’t my—”

“Doesn’t matter whose idea it was. I know the way these jokes work, the men need to blow off steam. Best I don’t react at all.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Beside which, I have a use for it.”

“ _Sir?_ ”

“What’s more you’re just the man to help me.”

“ _What?_... Sir.”

“We’re going to take a little trip to Whitehall...”

***

“Ray?”

“Go away, Bodie.”

“I’ve got something for you.”

“Is it rubber?”

“No, it never was.”

“...You better come up.”

 

“Look, I know you don’t believe me but I didn’t put that dildo in your bag.”

“Likely bloody story. You told me this morning you had something for me, something big, and then...”

“I know how it must have looked, you punching me in the corridor was a pretty big bloody clue, but I didn’t do it.”

“Then what were you talking about this morning?”

“I’ve got an old girlfriend who works for this jazz club. She got me tickets to see Ella Fitzgerald. I thought you might like to go with me.”

“Now I feel like shit for hitting you.”

“Don’t . I’ll probably do something else to warrant it.”

“Right... Your lip looks really bad.”

“... You could always kiss it better.”

“There you go, taking the piss again, I—”

“Who says I’m taking the piss?”

“ _Bodie?_ ”

“Why would I put a rubber cock in your bag when if you’d ever shown the slightest interest in cock I’d have offered you mine.”

“Detachable, is it?”

“... Isn’t this where you punch me again?”

“No. This is where I kiss it better.”

“Christ that stings... Do it again.”

***

 _Somewhere in Whitehall..._

 

“What, in the name of God, is this _thing_ doing in my desk drawer?”

“I have absolutely no idea how it got there, Minister.”

 

.


End file.
